Dead Man
by Celtic-Princess09
Summary: The undertaker finally finds the mortal that is destined to be his, her soul called out to him to take but he didnt want her in reality. so coming to her in dreams, taking her soul and making her his. one shot SMUT WARNING


**Ok this is a one shot and its basically smut, so enjoy**

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The lights went down. The gong sounded. The mist started pouring into the crowded arena, and as the gong sounded again, a tall imposing figure dressed completely in black appeared as if from nowhere, the graveyard fog billowing eerily around his feet.

He started slowly moving towards the ring, the mist cloaking him from the waist down so he appeared to float down the aisle. His presence was so forceful that the normally rowdy wrestling crowd was completely silent after their initial cheer at the first gong. They watched as the spectre walked slowly down the ramp. He reached the stairs to the ring, and lifting his black leather coat deliberately out of the way, he mounted the steps.

Posing for a moment with his hands slightly raised as if in some unholy benediction, he seemed some sort of satanic priest, blessing his followers. Then his black-gloved hands started to move upwards, and as if by magic, the darkened arena slowly returned to normal.

He carefully entered the ring, and reaching up slowly he grasped his hat with both hands. Dramatically lowering the hat from his head, it covered his face briefly. When his deathly pale face was again revealed, it was to show the crowd a frightening sight... His eyes had gone completely white.

After returning to normal, his light green eyes unhurriedly moved to pierce the older man standing in the ring, looking ludicrous in his cowboy hat. He cringed back unconsciously, truly intimidated.

The Undertaker had arrived.  
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Janelle absentmindedly reached for the bag of pretzels sitting on the table in front of her. She wasn't finding SmackDown particularly interesting today, but the Undertaker's entrance was slightly more interesting than listening to her fiancé and her best friend argue good naturedly about something. She thought it might be politics but she wasn't paying a lot of attention.

She tuned them out even further as she semi-amusedly watched "The Dead Man" go through his little routine; eye rolling and light raising and all that. She had to stifle a yawn as the Undertaker _finally_ managed to make his way to the ring.

The Undertaker was just trying to intimidate the other man, "Cowboy" something, she thought he was called, when her attention was caught by her best friend changing the subject to hair dying. As she started to argue fiercely with him about whether women with dyed blonde hair and fake breasts were attractive or not, she only kept one eye on the show, getting more and more angry with the nastiness and sexism of the world.  
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The Undertaker focused his eyes firmly on the man grovelling in front of him. The man was desperately beseeching him to spare his son, but the Undertaker never was known as a merciful man. He shook his head firmly and turned to go, when suddenly his attention was drawn away from the scene in front of him. A shock went through his whole body. Someone out there somewhere had just reached the level of emotion necessary to be ready for him. Someone who was going to be his.

He started scanning for the mortal who was destined for him, totally ignoring the man who continued to beg for his son's life.

So absorbed was he that he didn't sense the presence behind him until too late. He whirled around quickly, but he was still caught full force by the devastating R.K.O.

He collapsed on to the wrestling mat heavily. He used the rest of his energy to push himself onto his hands and knees, and with the rest of his considerable strength, he looked straight into the camera at the one whom he was going to claim. Forming a link with her took only seconds, and he sent his power along it and into her. His energy temporarily gone, he fell back to the canvas, content with the knowledge that his message had been sent.  
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Janelle angrily stuffed another pretzel into her mouth to buy herself time to think of a suitable retort. Even so, she was unable to come up with anything better than "I still think Trish would look better with her natural hair and breasts, and I am just sick of asshole men who prefer fake..."

Her voice abruptly stopped as her eyes were drawn towards the TV without any direction from her. An unexplained shiver went through her body. She could have sworn that the Undertaker's intense eyes were looking straight at her before he collapsed. A strange feeling of foreboding stole over her, along with an even stranger excitement.

She shook her head, ashamed of herself for giving in to these fanciful thoughts and berating herself for having an overactive imagination. She forced herself back to her prior train of thought before anyone noticed her lapse. However, it was hard to focus, and she was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the evening.  
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He sat in his hotel room, the doors locked, the blinds lowered and the lights off. He was completely still, his eyes wide open and unblinking as he stared directly north. After a few minutes, one large hand came up and pointed. He focused all his will into his pointing finger, and forced it beyond. Suddenly, he was in her dream.

He strained to find the one who had called to him across the miles. With the ease of long practice, he scanned the room. Since it was her dream, she must be here. He was in a large room, like a church hall. It appeared to be some sort of Ren Faire. Everyone around him was dressed in medieval-style clothing and some people were dancing a beautiful period dance. His eyes were drawn towards the dancers, and his instinct was soon proven correct as he saw her.

She was the only one other than him who was not dressed in a costume. She was happily dancing, her shoulder length brown hair bouncing, her hazel eyes sparkling. She was wearing a tight black tank top that showed off her round breasts to perfection. Her jeans clung to her curvy hips and ass. She was beautiful. Even better, he knew that she was the one he had come for.

He had to caution himself not to ruin everything by being overly excited. It had been a long time since he had found someone, and the last one he had found had not been for him after all. He had been searching for so long... Reaching out mentally with the lightest touch he could manage, he twisted her dream so that he was now a part of it.

She looked over at him, obviously startled though only for a few seconds. She stared at him, and then slowly left her place in the dance and started to approach him.

Janelle recognized the Undertaker as soon as she saw him, of course. Since it was a dream, she was not at all surprised that he was sitting on the floor in the middle of her SCA dance practice. She did notice that everyone else seemed to be avoiding him, looking at him sideways as if they were scared of him.

She started walking over to where he sat by himself, long legs crossed, back against the wall. He rose gracefully to his feet as she approached. She gasped out loud as she got near to him. He was enormous! Long leather clad legs went on forever, and a broad muscled torso was displayed by a black sleeveless shirt. He had a black hat atop his long auburn hair, and his gorgeous, light green eyes seemed very serious and intense as he watched her. His sheer presence was completely overwhelming her, and she had to swallow deeply before making herself talk to him.

Before she could do more than open her mouth, she was suddenly sitting on a leather covered seat in a car. Such is the nature of dreams and she didn't question it. She looked over to her right, and yes, there he was. So close to her that her breath caught in her throat. She smiled tremulously at him, and he reacted by resting his huge hand on her leg.

The thrill of him touching her, even so slightly, was incredible. Still, she surprised herself a little by putting her small hand on his large one and moving it further up until it was resting right on her denim covered upper inner thigh.

She moaned out loud as he took her hint and started moving his fingers over the cloth covered juncture between her legs. It was incredible, the man was barely touching her and yet it was enough to make her so excited her panties were soaked right through.

Grabbing his hand, she opened the car door, fumbling at the handle in her haste. She dragged him, unprotesting, out of the car. Outside was what seemed to be a beautiful park, barely lit. There was a strange energy coming from the place that she didn't understand at first, but as her eyes roamed over the darkened grounds she realized that she was not in a park after all, but in a cemetery.

Before she could do more than realized this, he surprised her by grabbing her hips and lifting her easily up so her face was at the same height as his. She obligingly wrapped her legs around his waist and opened her full lips invitingly.

He didn't disappoint her, lightly running his lips over hers, then slipping his tongue into her mouth.

They kissed like that for a long time. After a bit, he walked over to a nearby oak tree. Setting her lightly back on the ground, he sat down on the ground at the base of the tree, using its rough bark as his backrest. He used her hands to pull her down until she was kneeling between his legs under the tree.

She looked at him, sitting there with leaf shadows falling over his face, and she thought her heart might break with his beauty. The night shadows somehow both softened his rough features and make them seem even more dangerous.

They held hands, facing each other in the shadows. Slowly, he pulled her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she lay her head on his chest, feeling fragile but protected in his strong arms.

They rested like that for a while, him stroking her hair lightly. Then he tilted her chin up towards his face, and their lips were joining again. The kiss quickly deepened until it became earth shattering.

She ran her hands down his chest as they broke off their kiss, delighting in the way his muscles flexed under her hands. Her breathing grew a little louder as she reached his rock hard abdomen and finally down to his belt buckle.

Undoing the belt, she slowly drew his pants down from his slim hips until they were pooled around his ankles. She knelt as his feet for a second, then slowly started moving up his legs. She nuzzled her face and lips against him as she made the long, slow journey up, and he clenched his hands tightly at his side with the effort of not pulling her up to him.

He gave up the futile effort around the time she reached his knees. Reaching down, he gently but firmly cupped her head with one hand. Winding his fingers into her soft hair, he used his grip to move her willingly up his legs.

She laughed softly at his urgency, her soft lips grazing the tip of his cock. Inhaling deeply, she enjoyed his completely masculine scent. As she exhaled and the air rushed over his fully erect manhood, his fingers tightened in her hair.

She felt a shiver go through her whole body at the sensation. She could no longer control herself, and without any further teasing, she opened her mouth and...  
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Her fiancé sat straight up in bed. "Shit!" he said, "the alarm didn't go off!"

"Thanks a lot" Janelle muttered "You woke me up from an awesome dream."

She snuggled back into bed and tried to get back to sleep, but it just wasn't happening. She sighed in resignation and pushed the covers off. She was covered in a thin film of sweat and her breathing was a little harsh; remnants of her dream.

"It was the most vivid dream." She mused "It really felt like it was happening."

Her fiancé stopped his rapid rushing around to get ready for work to look at her inquiringly.

"Never mind, go to work, it was just a dream" She smiled and rolled over, trying to catch a few more hours of sleep before work.

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"Welcome to Wrestlemania 21, live from Hollywood!"

Janelle sat excitedly in her chair. She was in a movie theatre that was receiving the Pay-Per-View, and she couldn't wait for the show to get started.

Ever since her crazy dream a few nights ago, she'd been very excited about seeing the Undertaker. She'd even taken the day off work, something that was very out of character for her.

She sat impatiently through the other matches, barely watching them. She realized that she would have normally found them quite enjoyable but, in reality, she was there for one match only.

At long last, the Staples arena went dark. An eerie chant rose, and dark cloaked figures carrying torches walked onto the ramp. They stood flanking the aisle, still chanting.

The gong sounded. The Dead Man appeared in a cloud of mist. He floated down to the ring. His eyes sought out the camera as if he knew she was watching.

"Hey, look!" Janelle whispered to her best friend "It's my new boyfriend."

She ignored the look she gave her and leaned over to whisper to her fiancé "I think I have a crush on the Undertaker."

"I think you do too" He responded dryly.

In the ring, the match was now in full swing.

The punk kid who wanted to make a name for himself at the Undertaker's expense was clearly out of his league. Or so it seemed until in a surge of desperate strength, he scooped Undertaker up into position for a tombstone.

Before he could execute it, Undertaker reversed the move. The kid's head slammed into the mat, and he was easily rolled up for the pin.

Janelle screamed and cheered along with everyone else as the Undertaker walked back up the ramp. The mist came up again, and raising one hand without looking back, he disappeared into the fog.  
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That night she dreamed again.

This time, she was in the backstage area of an arena dressed in a tight black mini dress. She wore a golden necklace with a strangely familiar pendant dangling from it. She held it up curiously to get a better look. It looked kind of like a capital "T" with a large "X" centered on it about halfway down the pendant. She could have sworn she knew it from someplace.

As she peered at it she noticed a tall dark clad figure walking towards her. She smiled as she recognized him. Once again, she didn't find it strange that he would be there. Instead, she watched, breathless with anticipation as he glided gracefully towards her.

When he reached her, he stood very close to her and ran his eyes over her curves. His eyes roamed up her body, stopping when they reached her throat where the pendant was hanging. He reached out with one finger and gently touched it. His eyes lit up in something she would swear was approval, and he whispered something that she didn't quite hear.

Seconds later she was no longer wondering what is was he had said. She was in his arms and he was kissing away any coherent thought she might have had.

Not breaking the kiss, he drew her down onto a nearby bench until she was sitting, straddling him. She gasped softly as she felt his male hardness press against her wet panties. Unable to help herself she started moving her hips slightly, gliding herself over him, and moaning in ecstasy as her movement caused him to rub firmly against her clit.

He ran his hand down over her soft hair, over her face and down her neck. He slid his large cool hands over her shoulders, taking the straps of her dress down so it fell around her waist.

Her nipples hardened instantly as the cool air hit them. Before she had a chance to get cold, his hands were covering her breasts. As he firmly ran his hands over her full round globes, she moaned and ground her hips more firmly against his groin.

Then she was groaning in disappointment as he lifted her easily off his lap and set her gently down on the ground in front of him. She sighed with relief, however, as his large hands went immediately to his belt buckle.

His pants slid down his legs with a whisper of leather, and as soon as they were down, he pulled her back down onto his lap. This time the only thing preventing him from slipping inside of her was a pair of very thin, very wet panties.

Eager to get rid of the barrier, she lifted her hips just enough to push the thin cotton to the side, since she was not willing to separate from him even long enough to take them off.

Laughing in a slightly sinister way at her eagerness, he grasped her firmly by her hips. He lifted her up until the tip of his impressive cock was pressed just into the entrance of her wet sex. With a groan, he tightened his hold on her and drove her body down roughly onto him. As he slipped easily inside her, they both moaned.

She moved her hips slightly until he was entirely inside her, and he responded by tightening his hold on her even further until it was almost painful for her. He started moving slowly inside of her, and...  
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The alarm clock switched over from 6:59 to 7:00 am and the alarm started blaring stridently, waking her completely and totally from the disturbingly vivid dream.  
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Janelle sighed as she sat through yet another Undertaker-less SmackDown. Night after night had passed with him haunting her dreams, and she was starting to feel like she was losing touch with reality. The time she spent with him while she was sleeping was starting to feel more real than her actual life. The days and nights passed and the dreams became more and more vivid and real, although they always broke off just short of being fulfilling.

Six months had gone by since he first appeared to her, and she'd become more and more withdrawn as the months passed. Her fiancé and her friends had initially been quite worried about her. Her best friend tried for weeks to get into an argument, but she was no longer receptive to even the most loaded sexist comment. Eventually, everyone had adapted to her new personality.

The only time when she felt alive was when she was asleep, or when she was able to see the Undertaker on SmackDown. He seemed to be taunting her by seldom showing up to wrestle, and so she couldn't contain her excitement as the lights went down in the arena on TV. It could only mean one thing, and her suspicions were soon confirmed... his gong struck. The Undertaker was back.

She watched delightedly, eyes sparkling as she played absentmindedly with a golden necklace around her throat.

Over the next few weeks, the Undertaker stalked around SmackDown and Janelle made sure to catch every second of it. Every so often he would look at the camera and Janelle knew somehow that he was looking straight at her.

Summerslam quickly approached, and the Undertaker took care of some business, cornering Randy Orton and his father into a match.

She waited for the event eagerly, and finally it was the night before the event. She knew, somehow, that he would be coming for her tonight  
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This time the dream was a very different from any she had had before. Unlike previous dreams, she knew she was sleeping. And it felt more real than real life ever had.

She was kneeling naked on a cold stone floor, and she felt a shiver of fear run over her body as she looked around and realized she was inside of a crypt. She could hear the rain pounding through the open door at her back. The lightning flashed ominously and the thunder roared like a beast.

As she knelt there, her eyes were drawn to the middle of the room. There was a huge slab of unworked granite raised up off the floor by pillars of midnight black marble. A sheet lay draped over the still figure lying atop the strange alter.

As the lightning flashed brightly again, she saw the pure white sheet move and fall back as the form beneath it sat up. He swung his long legs around and stood. The sheet fell away, revealing his naked body in all its glory.

She was unable to rip her eyes off of him. His long legs, lean hips, strong chest and long flowing hair were unspeakably beautiful to her. At the same time, the fear she had been feeling since she first found herself was growing, but she felt strangely detached from the feeling.

He moved to stand in front of her kneeling form, looking down at her and standing in the easy pose of one who is used to being listened to and obeyed.

He knelt swiftly down until he was crouched in front of her. Slowly he reached out a long finger and placed it on the golden symbol that still hung around her neck. Lightly touching it with just the one finger, he spoke to her for the first time.

"You are mine. My cross draws you closer to me every second."

She shook her head. "I can't really be yours," she whispered softly "I already belong to someone."

His eyes narrowed at her defiance, but that was the only indication he gave her that he had even heard her statement.

He stood, motioning for her to do the same. She complied almost against her will. When she had reached her feet, he quickly swept her up into his strong arms. Feeling dizzy and totally out of control, she rested her head on his chest, breathing the intoxicating way he smelled deep into her lungs like a drug.

Still holding her, he turned around and walked slowly back over to the black alter. As they drew near, she saw a name had been carved into the side of the thick granite slab.

"Mark Calloway"

She reached up a tentative hand and touched his cool face. Running her hand lightly over his rough features, she asked "Mark? Is that your name?"

She could feel a shudder went through his body at her words, but once again he didn't respond verbally to her. Instead he placed her gently onto the stone where he had been lying moments before.

She gasped in shock as the chilled stone made contact with her bare legs, buttocks and back. The stone was hard and uncomfortable, and it seemed to leech all the heat out of her body.

And then all of that was out of her head as if it had never been there as she looked up at him. His sharp green eyes were piercing down into her, and they stilled her squirming body as well as he could have by physically holding her down.

Her body seemed locked into place and he towered over her. She became terrified as she realized that she was actually unable to move, yet she also had to admit to herself that she was as aroused as she had ever been in her life.

As he spoke again, she felt as though an invisible hand thrust open her legs and started playing over her damp womanhood. He bent down and spoke directly into her ear, his voice softly vibrating through her entire body. His words had the feel of a ritual, though his voice was thick with lust.

'The spirit of the Undertaker lives in you. You have been chosen."

His hands went to her head and his voice turned into a growl and he pulled her over to him, guiding her full lips to his rapidly hardening cock. As he uttered the last word, he thrust himself into her wet mouth, effectively cutting off any protest she might have had.

He started moving within her, and when he spoke again, his voice was even deeper.

"Janelle, it is pointless to resist. You must accept the Lord of Darkness as your savior."

His words sent a powerful thrill of fear mixed with desire running through her. She fought desperately for control over herself, but in truth, she knew that she was completely lost. He was too compelling, too perfect. She didn't stand a chance against him.

She moaned as he pulled out of her mouth. He walked around the alter to the end where Janelle's feet where lying. Grasping both of her ankles in one hand, he pulled her down so she slid over the rough granite until her arse was right at the edge by his legs.

His eyes lit up with pale green fire as unholy power started running through him. As he ran those intense eyes over her helpless body, they became brighter as he noticed slight traces of her blood on the alter where the rough stone had scraped her.

Leaning over, he drew his fingers over her shallow cuts, collecting her blood on his fingertips. He spoke again in something that sounded to her like Latin. Then he thrust his bloody fingers into his mouth, and repeated himself in English.

"Allow the purity of evil to guide you."

Without further ado, he spread her legs and thrust roughly into her. As they were joined, a bolt of lighting struck the open metal door, sending a shock through the entire stone building.

Janelle screamed once in denial as his cock and the electrical energy slammed into her. He began laughing, the sinister sound echoing around the chamber. He began to speak again in Latin, his laughter unnaturally prolonged to provide a bizarre counterpoint for his arcane chant.

As he was speaking, she felt the chain and pendant around her neck grow burning hot. She felt something, her soul maybe, rise up out of her body and into his. He slammed himself into her repeatedly, as he spoke, and although she was frightened, she still felt herself get ever closer to orgasm as he pounded into her. She started arching her back and hips to meet his brutal thrusts.

He growled out the final words to the spell as he plunged himself to the hilt inside of her. That last stroke pulled her over the edge, and she convulsed involuntarily as he poured his icy cold fluid into her.

She felt the energy he had absorbed from her slam back into her body, but now it was tainted with his unholy energy.

"Janelle. When I call for you, you will come to me." He was not asking a question but stating a truth.

She answered anyway. "Yes Lord, I will come."  
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She woke into the bright sunlight. She stumbled from the bed to the mirror. She gazed into it at her nude body, expecting to see cuts on her back, but her skin was smooth and unflawed. There was no physical trace of the night, but she could feel his power inside of her.

She stared at her reflection. She saw her image was holding some paper in her left hand. Looking down at her real hand, she saw that she was indeed holding some thick paper.

Carelessly sliding down onto the floor, she looked at what she held. It was an envelope of cream coloured thick paper with her name scribed in an old fashioned style on the front. Flipping it over, she saw that it was sealed with a red blot of wax. The same symbol that hung from the necklace around her neck was impressed into it.

Breaking it open, she pulled out a cream coloured piece of paper and two small white ones. She peered curiously at the two small papers. She was shocked when she saw what they were. One was a plane ticket to Detroit. The other was a ticket to the next major pay-per-view event, Survivor Series.

She flipped open the folded piece of cream paper, reading what was within.

'You have been summoned'

As soon as she had read those 4 words, the paper and envelope exploded into flames, burning down until nothing, not even ashes was left.

She understood the message.

"Yes Lord, I will come to you."  
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" I don't understand! Where are you going?"

Janelle stopped just at the threshold of the door to her house. She looked back over her shoulder at her fiancé, and what she saw came close to breaking her heart.

He was standing there, his green eyes concerned. His beautiful face was set in a confused expression, and one hand was stretched out to stop her from leaving.

She was unable to stop herself from flinging herself into his arms. She tilted her face back and their lips met.

_God help me,_ She thought, _I love him still._

"I will be back," She promised fervently "I have to go, I have been called. But I swear to you by all that is holy that I will return to you."

She tore out of his arms suddenly, and before he could stop her, she was running out to the cab that was waiting on the street.

He wasn't sure why, but he believed her.

"Then I will see you when you come back to me, Janelle!" He called after her departing figure.  
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Janelle sat in the front row of the sold out arena. Her heart pounded as she waited through the matches. At long last, the match she was waiting for arrived. Accompanied by his eerie music, the Undertaker made his way to the ring.

Janelle wasn't paying a lot of attention to the match. Her eyes were focused entirely on the Undertaker. She was so close to him, and it was entirely different than seeing him on TV. He was strong and quick, completely and utterly perfect.

He never lost control during the whole match, totally dominating the man he was wrestling until that man looked like a child. The match didn't last long, and the result was known to everyone far before the Undertaker tombstoned the kid and rolled him up for the pin. The crowd went wild, Janelle right along with them as the referee's hand slapped the canvas the third time.  
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The last match had ended and the crowds were finally thinning. Janelle didn't know what she was supposed to do. The Undertaker had not looked at her once the entire time he had been out and she was starting to think she'd made the whole thing up, perhaps even to the point of buying the tickets herself.

She sat there, thinking. The arena was completely empty now.

"Wow, I really need some help, I'd better go see a shrink." She muttered to herself. She gathered her purse and coat and stood.

As soon as she reached her feet, there was a rush or air and suddenly the space in front of her was not empty anymore.

Enormous hands reached out and grabbed her shoulders, and then she was somewhere else.

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"You dare to doubt your Lord?"

The voice was booming and thunderous, coming from above her head. Something pushed her down until she was kneeling on a cold stone floor. It was too dark for her to see, but she could hear perfectly as he started circling her.

Her eyes gradually adjusted, and she could see him stop in front of her. He was fully clothed in his wrestling gear. She couldn't help but strain to see his strong tall form in the dark. Just the sight of him, the smell of him, was enough to have her aching to have him touch her.

He glared down at her and spoke again.

"You will never doubt me again."

He reached down and lifted her effortlessly to her feet. His eyes scanned her body and she wasn't entirely certain but she though he approved. When she had gotten dressed before the event she had made certain to clothe herself in the dark colours she thought he would approve of.

He moved back from her for a second, and she was able to see that she was in the place where he had last come to her in her sleep. She fell forwards onto the granite alter, feeling like someone had just proven to her that the sky was not actually blue but was instead blood red. She knew that people could not invade other peoples dreams. Dreams were not real...and yet...

She ran over to the door and looked outside. It was the same cemetery that had been in the first dream he was ever in. Suddenly the events of the last few months caught up with her and she screamed aloud in defiance.

"I will not be yours!"

He said nothing,only gestured and the metal door slid shut. He stalked slowly towards her, his eyes narrowed ominously. She knew that if she didn't get out, her soul was lost forever.

She flitted desperately around the room with him slowly following. She now knew how a mouse being stalked by a cat would feel. She could tell her was patiently waiting for her to tire herself out.

Inevitably he caught her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. She was too exhausted to struggle. He sunk down onto his knees, pulling her down with him. He raised her face to his until their eyes met.

Looking into his eyes, she became aware of images in her head that were not her own. She knew that he was projecting them to her, and tears began to stream down her cheeks.

She understood without any words passing between them how lonely he was. She knew that in her he had found the only fitting companion for him in the world. Silently he offered her what he possessed, everlasting existence with him.

She shook her head.

"Oh Mark," She finally said, "I can't! I promised him I would come back!"

Into her head the words appeared.

"What has been done cannot be undone. You are mine."

He scooped her up into his large strong arms and carried her over to the altar again. He sensually removed her clothing, piece by piece until she stood bare in front of him. Knowing what she did, she knew that she should not allow this, but she found herself unable to resist touching his strong chest as he slid his shirt off.

He ran his hand gently over her face, and then bending down, kissed her. She felt any will to resist slip away as his kiss became more urgent.

He gently placed her on the alter and stripped off his leather pants until he was as bare as she was. He looked down at her and spoke to her again.

"I will not be alone anymore. The change has already begun to take place in you. When you die, you will inevitably come back to me. We are bound together."

He kissed her again. His cold hands travelled down over her face, trailing lightly over her neck and brushing her breasts. She arched her back so her breast filled her hand, moaning aloud as he massaged the orb.

His other hand moved further, trailing down her slightly rounded stomach and to the curls nestled between her legs. Slowly he slipped a cool finger down over her clit and inside her.

She gasped as his finger entered her. He soon joined it with another and she showed her delight by starting to move her hips. He broke the kiss and climbed onto the alter to join her. His deep voice filled the room as his fingers were filling her.

"He can have you for now. But I will come for you once he is gone."

He knelt on the rough stone between her spread legs and removed his fingers from inside her. She cried out desperately for him to fill her, and he did not disappoint.

He placed his large cock very carefully at her soaking wet entrance. The sensation was so incredible that Janelle couldn't wait any longer. She moved her hips desperately, hissing in satisfaction as he slipped inside her.

He played her body like a musical instrument. With his mind and body he forced her beyond what she had previously thought she could endure.

Finally, the sexual assault on her mind and body was too much and she went crashing down over the edge, shouting aloud as orgasm ripped through her body. Her hands pounded the stone and she spasmed around his manhood.

He pounded into her, giving her the release that she was so desperate for. They came together, her arms coming up to hold him close to her as he spilled his seed deep inside her.

He looked down at her, and for the first time, he smiled.

"For now your heart belongs to him, but for always your soul is mine."


End file.
